The Lesson of the Fool
by SiddhartaCamus
Summary: Grave things have happened to Andrew Meyer back in the US, reason why he travels along with his parents to London, in search of a new start. Andrew has created a new mask based in his experiences, and attending Hogwarts for the first time will signify a challenge against his morals.
1. Sorting

**Hi, people! First of all, I'd like to say that English is not my first language, so I'm very sorry if you find spelling mistakes. Believe me, I know how cringy it can be to read something with _that_ type of orthography. So if there are important mistakes feel free to point at them! Secondly, I'd like to point out this is my first story. I've always liked the idea of a different type of character, not the typical one we've all seen in this platform. Usually the OC's are girls who somehow get into a relationship with an important character or some shit like that (Please, if you know about a story with an OC that's worthwhile, tell me about it). Thirdly, I hope you enjoy this fic and live a comment about it, I want to know what you think and how things can be corrected, or even ideas on how to proceed. Thank you very much!**

"Meyer, Andrew Elías!"

The called eleven-year old noticed sideways that no one seemed to pay any mind of his name; it was just another name among the other ones, nothing interesting to see there. All the students -even some teachers- kept on talking with each other as he made his way to the Sorting Hat.

A sour looking woman waited patiently as he took seat to get sorted. She arched an eyebrow at his cheerless expression.

" _Mmm... you surely have an interesting mind with you, boy-_ "

Said boy made a rasp sound. " _I bet you say that to everyone who sits here,_ " he interrupted.

" _That's not true; you'd be surprised if you saw other's minds. It's difficult to rescue one which can achieve greater_ _things. However, it always depends in the influence it receives by external sources_ ," said the Sorting Hat with a less cheerful voice.

" _You refer to people as if they were 'its'_ ," noted Andrew, not in reproach, but in curiosity.

" _Well, you humans refer to me as an 'it', even though I have a conscience as you all have. You also refer to animals as_ _'it', and they are habitants of this world with the same rights as you_."

Was _that_ a reproach he heard in its voice?

" _Anyway, as much as I would like to keep talking to you, there's unfortunately a long line of students waiting to get_ _sorted. Is there a House you'd like to get sorted in_?"

" _Don't know. Don't care_ ," said Andrew, bored.

The Sorting House laughed in a soft manner. " _I see. You really are lazy, huh? But is that a mask I see...? You make_ _yourself seen as an unmotivaded and bored person, who doesn't care about anything. But you weren't like that in the past,_ _were you?_ "

Andrew frowned under the hat. " _Just sort me, please. I'm not in the mood for a mother's quarrel. Are you a mother, huh?_ "

" _Lamentably, I don't see you fitting well enough in any of the Houses. You have a mature side that little people_ _seems to appreciate and there's a simplicity in your person that's quite unique._ "

Andrew didn't like the sound of that. It would mean that his high school life would be too troublesome. He hated troublesome people.

"What do you suggest I do?" he nearly implored.

" _In any House you get in, you're going to be seen as the anormal one, but I think it's more important to consider how you'll influence the people around you. I'm not going to sugarcoat this: you're going to have a difficult life. Normal people won't be able to see the beauty in the way you see things_."

Andrew understood this. He really did. It was, however, as if a ton of bricks had falled on him. Would he be able to carry this much weight?

"SLYTHERIN!"

Andrew said a quiet 'bye' to the Sorting Hat, ignoring the bewildered expression on the sour teacher's face and walked calmly to the less bright table.

At the moment he sat, many faces around him looked at him in disdain. The most disdainful was of a platinum blonde who seemed to have a wand stuck up his ass, Andrew absently noted.

"Where are you from? I've never heard of your name before. Are you a Mudblood?"

At least he was straight-forward. Even though his character left a lot to be desired.

"I'm from the States. You know, America. And I'm proud to say my surname comes from Julius Lothar Meyer, great chemical who contributed in making the current periodical table. So no, I'm not a 'Mudblood'. My family's pretty decent and there are no weird mutations in our gens caused by incest. Nevertheless, I read that is not the case in lots of families from here, am I right?" Andrew knew he was making a bad move with what seemed to be a very important fellow, but the face he made was worth it. The discontent was perfectly shown in his face, while Andrew's lips merely twitch from amusement. At least he knew that between 'noble' people, making a blank mask was very important to hide any emotions. This blondie was failing miserably. What a disgrace, and he seemed a lot older than him.

"So you _are_ a Mudblood," snarled a girl at his side. She had part of her hair dyed white, as if trying to impress the one next to her or something. It was quite shameful, Andrew thought.

"Look how quiet he is now. You're right, Cissy," another girl parroted at her side.

Cissy looked about to growl. "Don't call me that."

Andrew felt the need to smack his head: he had sat at the tip of the table where the other years started. Why would other year students care about his blood condition? That was stupid. Just go and socialize with the ones of your year; trying to creep out the younger ones's not cool at all. Andrew frowned, his dark eyes glistening with silent anger.

The sorting passed through with no other consideration of him -wich Andrew didn't mind at all- and he watched with a bored semblance as other students were sorted. He arched an unimpressed brow when the Great Hall fell in commotion at the one with surname 'Black' being put in Gryffindor. Why couldn't everyone calm down? It was just a House, for God's sake. It was like in his P.T.'s class back in the U.S. when they were designed into several teams by colors. Who gave a damn about being white, blue or red? So freaking absurd.

After the last one was sorted, the Headmaster started a speech wich he supposed was given every year to the new students, judging by the dull faces many of the older students were making.

The start of the speech was the cue Andrew needed to doze off. He was tired of the long travel and Dumbledore's voice had that specific tint elders used to make their children sleep. He only heard something about not trespassing the Forbidden Forest -it was called Forbidden for something, duh- and someone called Voldemort.

 _Ah, isn't he that wannabe Dark Lord everyone in Europe are getting crazy about?_

At the end of the speech, when Dumbledore indicated the Head Students to lead the first years to their dormitories, someone shaked him timidly to wake up. Andrew opened his eyes and, when he was about to thank the person for waking him up, he or she had disappeared into the crowd of students.

Andrew blinked slowly, trying to keep his vision clear until he reach the bed. The Head Boy, a scrawny but at least intelligent looking guy guided them to the dungeons, where their dormitories were supposed to be. He didn't pay any mind to his words about Slytherin's story as he watched in fascination the moving paintings, the weird-ass ghosts and even the architecture. Everything in the castle seemed to scream alive.

"No more to say, I leave you to get comfortable in your new environments. Remember: men are left side and women right. Last thing we need are first years getting naughty," said the Head Boy as laughs were heard between most of the students.

The Head Boy smiled, finally revealing a more human side of him. "And remember: we Slytherins stick up together. I hope you can all have a good year." Andrew smiled for the first time as he watched the Head Boy bow and leave them. He seemed to be a nice guy, Andrew mused.

Andrew went to the left as he looked for his bed, which was named after him somewhere. When he finally found it, he rested his trunk on the sheets, as he took out the materials for class and his clothes. At the bottom lied a photo. He grimaced and hide it below a random piece of cloth. He sighed; he didn't want to look at it now. Putting his wand under his pillow, he went to the bathroom, where some other students of his age were preparing and washing themselves to sleep. He stepped next to a greasy black-haired guy who was currently glaring at the mirror as if there was an irremovable stain. He was still frozen in spot, even as Andrew finished brushing his teeth. Andrew looked around, noticing that everyone was ignoring his strange behaviour. He was about to place a hand on the black-haired's shoulder, when someone harshly took his wrist and took him out of the bathroom.

"Hum, what was that for?"

"Don't bother with him. He's not going to talk back to you," the one who took him away back to their bedroom was a dusty blonde who Andrew presumed was Avery, his bed neightbour. His other neightbour was someone by the name of Severus Snape.

"Why wouldn't he talk back to me?" asked Andrew curiously.

Avery snorted. "He's upset because his girlfriend ended up in Gryffindor. Poor lad, she's never going to talk back to him ever again."

Now Andrew was terribly confused. "Why wouldn't she?"

Avery looked at him as if he was insane. "Why wouldn't she? She's a Gryffindor, you idiot. Slytherins and Gryffindors hate each other. Everyone knows that, even the ones who haven't come to Hogwarts," he then narrowed his eyes. "Are you a Mudblood?"

Andrew frowned, unable to conceive this idea. What was the point of hating each other because of being from different colours or houses? That's moronic.

"My blood's healthy enough, thanks for your concern. And I haven't heard of Hogwarts until very recently. I actually come from the US."

Avery's eyes lit up in interest. "Really? I haven't met a foreigner in a long time. Why are you here in Hogwarts if there is a magic school there? Or did your parents thought Hogwarts's better than Ilvermorny?"

"Yes, it's because of that," lied Andrew.

Avery opened his mouth to say something else, but was interrupted as the black-haired finally left the bathroom. Somberly, he eyed Andrew and Avery and simply made his way to where 'Severus Snape' was written.

"Goodnight to you too," huffed Avery in distaste, as Snape's form disappeared under the warm sheets.

Andrew didn't say nothing, as he watched Avery going to his bed. The bedroom was now completely dark and, ironically, Andrew, -who was the more eager in getting to sleep- was the last one to fall asleep.


	2. Beware of the Wrackspurts

Waking up came off as a more difficult feat than getting to fall asleep. He didn't have an alarm clock next to him like the ones he used to have back in the US. They were rather useful. He was harshly woken up by someone he didn't know, and taken by Avery to the Great Hall. Again by the wrist. Did he have a wrist fetish or what? That sounded gross... and now he felt disgusting.

"Breakfast is ending in ten minutes!" he roared as if to make an excuse of manhandling him, while they made their way through a turbulent flow of students.

When they finally reached destination, they walked towards the table, Andrew calmly sitting down and Avery looking furiously at Snape.

"Why didn't you wake us up, Severus!?"

Andrew flinched at the loud tone. Ugh, it was too early for this shit.

"It wasn't my obligation, was it?" He looked and sounded dull, Andrew observed. His eyes glanced at Avery but quickly redirected to a Gryffindor redhead.

"It's called _commitment_ , have you ever heard of it!?" Avery forcefully sighed and took a seat next to Andrew, putting on his plate everything he could that was left to eat.

Andrew took the last piece of treacle tart and hummed in pleasure at the sweet flavour.

 _Sweet things are the best. God bless sugar!_

He was still eating, when a colorful individual appeared behind him.

"Well, well, _bon appétit_! I see you're quite enjoying the treacle tart, huh? Hogwarts's treacles tarts are the best ones, believe it!" The petit man suddenly seemed to remember something. "Oh, silly me! I forgot to introduce myself, again. I'm the Potions Professor, Horace Slughorn, also Head of the noble House of Slytherin. Here I have your schedules, Avery, Meyer," he handed them. "Today's your first Potion's class. Good luck and don't be late!" he finally stopped rambling and turned away.

"Oh, joy. Our first class is with the Gryffindorks," Avery spat, eyeing his schedule.

"Stop complaining, we haven't even started class. My mother once told me 'If you hate someone you can either let it go, or make the best parfait in the world.'" said Andrew, recalling the words from his memory.

The ones who heard the comment, including Snape, turned and glared at him, bewildered.

"How's that suppose to be an advice?" exclaimed Avery.

Andrew made a double take. "Ah, I think she was drunk."

Someone who was drinking pumpkin juice snorted.

"You think?" sneered Snape.

Andrew didn't honored the comment, instead, he rised and walked back to the dormitory to gather his things for class. In his way -being the distrait one he was-, he accidentally bumped into someone, making the stranger's books spread opened into the floor.

"I'm sorry!" said Andrew, as he knelt to help. He curiously eyed covers; _The Tales of Beedle the Bard_ , _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them, The Creature Vault_ , _Hogwarts: A History_... Oh, well, many of them were for class, though there were a few that seemed to be for mere entertainment. Gazing up, he met for the first time a face which would curiously be engraved in his memory. The boy had long white shoulder length hair that almost hid his face and striking blue eyes.

"It's okay. By the way, you should be careful; there're some fussy wrackspurts floating all over you,"he said, grasping the last book.

Andrew blinked, confused. "Wrackspurts? What's that? And who are you?"

The boy -who Andrew now noticed was from Ravenclaw- looked at him with his weird dreamy eyes. "My name's Xenophilius Lovegood. I prefer if you call me Xeno, Xenophilius's too long." Andrew agreed with that. "Wrackspurts are little floating beings that are the reason your brain might feel dizzy. They're invisible, so you can't see them. You should put a glass of milk under your head so they disappear."

Andrew nodded slowly. "Sure. I'm Andrew Mayer, by the way," he said, before turning around.

"Good luck, Mr. Andy!"

Andrew smiled widely as he strode down the corridor. "Yeah, you too!"

 _Andy, please show me another trick._

Andrew suddenly froze. There was no mistake: he knew that voice. His lips trembled, forming a pout. That person had disappeared; he should just let it go, the feeling of emptiness. He walked faster, avoiding every undesirable glance to simply reach his room. When he finally got in, he forcibly closed the door and thrusted himself on the bed, hugging the pillow, so every sensation of anguish his body was remembering could flow and finally disappear.

 _But I want it to disappear completely_ , he thought.

It never completely disappears. That specific feeling, those beautiful eyes looking at him as if he was the world, as if he was everything. The smile, the longing smile wich can vanish any preoccupation in an instant. She never disappears.

That night he was going to sleep with a glass of milk under the bed.


	3. We'll be Together Forever

_The peaceful rush of the leaves were like music to his ears. September was his favourite month. Everything around him conveyed the impression of a landscape painted in different shades of brown. She was too little to fit the long dress suitably, but it didn't matter; the only important thing at that moment were her and him, sitting by the lake in a quiet moment, far away of all evilness of the world._

 _"Why are you always smiling, Andy?" The girl asked suddenly, interrupting the silent beat of the moment._

 _Andy was still placidly smiling when he answered back: "Mmm? What's the problem with smiling? My brother told me that when I grow up I'll have to overcome lots of problems, and I'll be very sad because the world won't be fair and it won't be like I'll expect it to be. I figure then I should keep on smiling, so I can prove my brother wrong. If I prove him wrong, then maybe he'll smile again."_

 _The girl kept still in a t_ _houghtfulness silence. The corners of her lips then stretched almost painfully; her smile was so big it forced her eyes to close. "Then I suppose I should start smiling more. I also want to believe the world is beautiful."_

 _"You don't need to force yourself, Selena. I'll always protect you!" Andrew said, mimicking a gentleman pose he'd seen in some romantic TV show._

 _Selena laughed in her soft manner. "Is that a promise, oh, my shiny prince?"_

 _"Don't you mean 'blue prince'? And what are you talking about? Of course it's a promise!"_

There was a sudden flash of white, and Andrew's eyes opened up abruptly, his body jumping as if receiving an electric shock. He gasped and placed a shaky hand on his forehead, wich was sweating. Calming himself down, he soundlessly spreaded the green curtains, responsible of giving him some sort of privacy, and took his wand to check the hour: **4:55**. He moaned in distress. There was no way he was getting back to sleep. He was felt now hopeless, knowing he wouldn't have a first good day of class. He thought he should kill some time maybe by writing a letter to his parents. They would be anxious to know how he settled in.

 _Dear Idiots,_

Andrew smiled a little. His parents were the most ridiculous people he knew. They always fought and always made up, and he sweared they were like children sometimes, getting all sentimental for him. He still remembered his mortification at the moment of leaving them back at the train station; they were a sobbing mess, making him impossibly embarrassed. He remembered the many of the loathing faces of some parents at their public display of affection, and knew at that moment he was lucky for having those parents. They were his idiots.

 _I already miss you. I'm not saying this to make you feel pity, on the contrary, I'm expressing my total love and devotion for the two of you. Even If I find a partner, even if I find a best friend, family always comes first._

 _Not a lot has happened. It seems that this institution is separated by what they called 'Houses'. It's basically some burocratic shit they've made to foment competition among the students. Nothing new there. Anyway, I've obviously been placed in one of them. Zlitheryn, I think it was called. I don't even know if it's spelled correctly. For some reason, it's a House that's very despised by the other three Houses there are. I've heard among the students it is because lots of dark wizards had belonged there. I personally think that's bullshit, but whatever._

 _Tomorrow I have my first day of class. I'm a little nervous, and I hope to get good grades in all subjects._

Andrew paused for a moment to reread the letter. Flashes of Selena's smile came to his mind and, instead of casting it away, he thought that maybe doing the honors to that wonderful memory wouldn't be bad, for more painful it could mean bringing those reflections back.

 _And remember to always keep on smiling!_

 _Love and Regards,_

 _Your Idiotic Son._


	4. Friendship and Conspiracies

After finishing his letter, Andrew wasn't sure how long he'd been awake, staring at nothing, before he finally fell asleep. It was only when someone spreaded aside the curtains and shook him awake, that he realised he'd finally fallen asleep.

"Wake up, mate. We have breakfast and then our first class," announced the hoarse voice, revealing to be Avery.

Andrew sat up and stretched his limbs, yawning without a care of the world. He then turned to Avery: "Thanks for waking me up. That's very kind of you."

The blonde huffed and approached the door. "The git, Snape, has already left us behind. Gather your things, I'll wait for you at the common room."

"You don't need to," said Andrew awkwardly, reaching for his things.

"I insist. I have to talk to someone, anyway." Before Andrew could asked him about it, Avery left him to his things.

Avery was a nice dude, Andrew thought. He didn't know him, but was acting considerate with him, even though he already seemed to have friends from other years. Poor Andrew actually didn't know that his relations didn't consist of any type of friendship. Not the one he knew of.

Three minutes he invested getting himself ready, and went to the common room. There he spotted Avery, talking alone with the older blondie he'd met the day before. Andrew frowned. That guys was bad news, he just knew it. Avery seemed tensed, as he spoke to him, and the other one just stared back as you stare at an insect you're waiting to get smash, a lowlife.

He didn't like that guy at all.

After being spoken back by the older one, the conversation appeared to end and Andrew made signs to get Avery to notice him. Avery looked at him, a tinge of fear clouding his eyes. This was his cue to walk to him, even though the other one had already left.

"What happened?" he asked straight-forward.

"Nothing. We were just talking about family," he lied.

"Who was him?"

"Lucius Malfoy. Never try getting on his bad side; the Malfoys are a very influencial family here in England."

Oops. Well, it was too late for that.

"Avery, if you ever need my help, or if he or anyone else ever tries to bully you in some form, tell me. In the worst scenario, I'll give you a hand," said Andrew, dead serious.

Avery looked at him with wide eyes for a moment. "You're serious," he realised.

Andrew blinked. "Of course I'm serious. Even the Head Boy said it: we have to stick together. It's the most healthiest way of living."

"You're weird," said Avery. He'd never met someone as interesting as him, that was for sure. From the first moment he looked at him, he perceived something strong within him. What was it? He wanted to figure it out. "Not the bad weird, though."

"Thanks," huffed Andrew. "Let's get going now."

* * *

"Severus, a word, please."

Said boy, who's been reading a book about potions since finishing off his plate five minutes earlier, left a worned bookmark on a page and stood up, narrowing his eyes.

"What is it, Lestrange?"

Snape didn't miss the sudden flash of anger in his bluish eyes, before he smiled, a horribly fake smile. "I'm sorry to say there aren't enough rooms for you to have one of your own." He didn't sound sorry at all.

Snape stiffened. "But you _promised_."

"Promises are made to be broken," said Lestrange cruelly, as if reciting a line he'd memorized from a book. "You should be grateful I even bother in checking out for a halfblood as yourself. What is even the problem with sharing with Avery and that Meyer bloke?"

Snape gritted his teeth in frustation. "They're annoying."

"Oh? You think you are too high and mighty for their presence?" Lestrange smiled viciously. "Mulciber, Wilkes and Rosier are already sharing the other room and I, as a prefect, have all the right to own mine. You're in the same boat as all your classmates or do you think you're a special case just because the Dark Lord took notice of your 'abilities'?"

"Did you call me just to make fun of me?" asked Snape, bitterly.

Lestrange laughed. "Oh, no, I wouldn't waste my time just for that. On the contrary, I have a task for you. Meyer, being a foreigner and all, isn't really one of us. The Dark Lord wants us to take precautions, so I thought it would be necessary for you to keep an eye on him. Last thing we need is a spy among our ranks."

Snape actually snorted at that. "He a spy? I don't think a bloke who sleeps with a glass of milk under the bed would fit the role."

Lestrange didn't comment on that. "Perhaps you might be right, but it never hurts to take precautions. Do this for me, and you shall be awarded when the time comes."

Snape stirred at that. He knew what he was talking about. "I understand."

Lestrange didn't smile, but there was a glint of amusement in his eyes. "Good."


	5. People who tell lies, won't get any love

Potion's class ended up transpiring in the same Slytherin's dungeons, much to the convenience of its members. Nevertheless, Andrew fluttered his nose in disgust. The whole place stinked of moisture and a strange vals of fragances filled up his senses. There was, sadly, no visible form of ventilation in the classroom. When he walked in along Avery, almost all seats were already taken; Andrew observed puzzled, that both Gryffindors and Slytherins were markedly separated from each other. Without too much thought in the matter, he sat between Avery and Snape. The professor was frantically signing papers from his desk, taking advantage of the minutes left before the class started. While everyone seemed content, talking to each other and ignoring or giving the cold shoulder to the opposite house members, Andrew sat awkwardly stiff, waiting for the class to start for once. Avery was talking with some Mulciber guy about a Honeydukes place and Snape simply concentrated on reading a book.

"Well," announced finally Professor Slughorn, when the wall clock marked exactly the time the class started. "I'm happy to see every one of you arrived here on time. As you may know, I'm Horace Slughorn, your Potion's professor. Potions is a fundamental teaching in the base of all wizards. The learning of potion making won't be only necessary for your O.W.L.S and N.E.W.T.S exams in the future, but it will be also essential for your daily life. How, you might ask yourself? What happens if a poisonous snake bites you? Make an antidote with the essential ingredients you'll learn to use later. Or let's say - in case of a less life or death situation -, you're attending an important event and want to get rid of that annoying pimple. Simply make a Blemish Blitzer potion." That part lamentably was the only one wich seemed to catched the attention of various students.

"This first class will be a special one. As you can see, in the left corner of the room there is a large table I added with several potion ingredients on to make you all work with. Each of you will choose a partner and work together with a cauldron in which you'll deposit the ingredients you take from the table to experiment and see what you can make. While working, there has to be one of you writing down the order in wich you drop the ingredients and also if you cut them down or the amount and quality of the product. Remember that the ingredient itself isn't enough to make a potion successful; it also depends in the condition of the ingredient. Now work. I'll pass through each table later to see the results. Ah! And one more thing! If you have any doubt about what you're doing," he said this and, with a flip of the wand made some notes appear on each desk, "you can check out those notes I made about each ingredient that lays on the table. There's also information about its origin, different uses, and how to handle them in potion making. Now, work."

 _No playing around, straight to work_ , Andrew sighed, tiredly.

While every student in the classroom was getting arranged, Andrew turned to Avery.

"Hey, Avery, want to be my partner?" he asked right away.

Avery made an apology face. "Sorry, I'm with Mulciber."

 _Crap_. "Oh, well, then..."

"Be my partner," an unexpectant voice by his side addressed him.

Andrew turned to Snape, who had already abandoned his book and was now glaring at him with those black, sinister eyes. Andrew hoped he didn't look as surprised as Avery was. Snape was scaaaryyy (not that he would admit that).

"Hum, okay. Do you want me to go catch the ingredients...?" he asked once he had seated closer to Snape.

"No. Prepare the cauldron, I'll fetch them." He promptly walked towards the large table, where various students were already swirling around.

Andrew defenitely didn't pout at the disregard, and started boiling the water.

"Sorry, Andrew, I didn't think you'll end working with someone like him," Avery whispered to him, while Mulciber was also catching the ingredients.

"No hard feelings, dude," Andrew sighed.

"Even so..." Avery wasn't so sure.

"Here," Snape finally arrived with the... _ingredients._

"Okaaay..." Andrew knew this wasn't going to be his favorite subject. "For some reason I think you catched the ugliest ones, but well. How do you suppose we arrange them?"

Snape arched an eyebrow at his comment, but didn't mention it. Instead, he _smiled_. "Let's just use our creativity."

And use their creativity they did. Andrew had no idea what they were doing while simply throwing the ingredients in. Snape oddly looked as if he knew exactly what he was doing, and inadvertently manipulated the whole operation. Even though it was 'inadvertently' Andrew wasn't an idiot not to notice it. He felt offended. When they finally finished the potion, it was an emerald green.

"What now?" asked Andrew, wiping the sweat from his forehead.

Snape didn't hear him. Instead, his eyes were focused on a certain redhead who was laughing at what some glasses-guy said. Andrew's countenance twitched in aggravation at being fully ignored. "Could you stop staring at your little girlfriend and pay attention, _please_?" he spat the last word. This guy was seriously ticking him off.

Snape snapped out of his reverie and glared at him. His cheeks had a rosy tint wich was very noticeable owing to his pale complexion. "She's not my girlfriend..." _Yet_. Andrew knew it was the reticent word.

"Let's just wait. Slughorn will come sooner or later," said Snape, and that was all.

Fortunately for Andrew, they didn't have to wait more than five minutes before Slughorn came to their desk.

"Mmm, yes, it seems whatever potion you both made winded up quite well. I expect good things of you two..."

"Andrew Meyer and Severus Snape, "Andrew presented them both, rescuing Professor Slughorn from any type of awkwardness.

"Very good, Meyer, Snape. Let's see what you wrote down."

Slughorn started reading their work with a passive face. Andrew watched in consternation, as his face morphed into one of fright.

"What's the matter, sir?" asked Andrew.

"Y-y-you, how is this possible. I can't believe this! Where did you get a Jobberknoll feather!?" He asked, almost in panic.

Andrew threw a glance at Snape in bemusement. He was showing an innocent face.

"You mean the blue one, sir? It was laying under the table and I thought it must had fell from it. Could it be we weren't suppose to use it?" asked Snape, confused.

"You're quite right, Snape. It must had been a terrible slip of mine. This won't happen again, I assure you." said Slughorn, nervously.

"Did we do something wrong, then?" asked Andrew, still confused.

Slughorn laughed apprehensively. "Oh, no, you actually did it too right. You both made a truth serum without knowing. Merlin, this is the first time something like this happens. As you may know, truth serums aren't of legal use nowadays. What you made is a much less stronger than the Veritaserum, but it still is restricted. Clean it up and, if you excuse me," he said, eyeing disapprovingly a few cauldrons that were collapsing or bubbling suspiciously, "I'll go attend other students."

"I'll go dispose of it," announced Snape, taking the cauldron with him.

Andrew eyed him suspiciously when he came back. "What are you planning, _Severus_?" he hissed. "Will you try it with the redhead and see what she thinks of you? I'm not as stupid as I look!"

"Are you saying you look stupid?" Severus smiled.

"That's not the point!"

"Relax," he said. "I'm not going to try anything. Besides, I would never harm her in any way." He seemed almost sad with the way he said that, Andrew noticed.

"Whatever," he rolled his eyes. "Just don't be troublesome."

Without anyone noticing, Snape had saved some of the potion in a vial.

In good news, the class finished with no casualties.


End file.
